id="id00090">Uncle Moses looked for a long time, hoping to see something like a cab. In vain. They all seemed to him to be "one-hoss shays," and what was worse, all seemed to be filled.

"Boys," said he at last, "I'm goin' to make a move. You jest sit here, and hold on to the trunks. I'll go an hunt up one of them one-hoss shays. There ain't nothin' else that I can do. Hold on now, hard and fast, till I come back."

With these words off went Uncle Moses, and the boys remained behind, waiting.

A very fine-looking set of boys they were too.

There was Frank Wilmot, about fifteen years of age, tall, stout, with fine, frank face, and crisp, curly hair.

There was Clive Wilmot, about fourteen, tall and slight, with large eyes and dark hair.

There was David Clark, about Frank's age, rather pale, with serious face, and quiet, thoughtful manner.

And there was Robert, or, as he was always called, Bob Clark—an odd-looking boy, with a bullet head, pug nose, comical face, brown eyes, and short shingled hair.

Uncle Moses was not gone long. By some wonderful means or other he had succeeded in procuring a vehicle of that kind which is universal in this city, and he now reappeared to the delighted boys, coming at a tearing pace towards them, seated in a Neapolitan caleche.

The Neapolitan caleche is a wonderful machine, quite unequalled among wheeled vehicles. The wheels are far back, the shafts are long, and horse draws it. But in the caleche it is a very common thing for any quantity of people to pile themselves. There is a seat for two, which is generally occupied by the most, worthy, perhaps; but all around them cluster others,—behind them, before them, and on each side of them,—clinging to the shafts, standing on the axle, hanging on the springs. Indeed, I have heard of babies being slung underneath, in baskets; but I don't believe that.

At any rate, Uncle Moses and his party all tumbled in triumphantly. Two trunks were put in front, one behind, and one suspended underneath. David and Clive sat behind, Frank and Uncle Moses on the seat, while Bob sat on the trunk in front, with the driver. The lazzaroni looked on with mournful faces, but still proffered their services. In patient perseverance few people can equal them.

The driver saw at once the purpose of the Americans, though they could not tell him what they wanted. So he drove them to a hotel in the Strada Toledo, where he left them, after having been paid by Uncle Moses the largest fare he had ever received in his life; for Uncle Moses gave him about five dollars, and felt grateful to him besides.

Their apartments were very nice rooms in the sixth story. The hotel was a quadrangular edifice, with a spacious court-yard. Around this court-yard ran galleries, opening into each story, and communicating with one another by stairways, which were used by all the occupants of the house.

From the gallery in the sixth story a door opened into their parlor. On the left side of this was a snug bedroom, of which Uncle Moses took possession; on the right side was another, which was appropriated by David and Clive; while the third, which was on the other side, and looked out into the street, was taken by Frank and Bob.

Thus the four boys paired off, and made themselves very comfortable..

That night they all went to bed early. Uncle Moses retired last.
All slept soundly, for they were very much fatigued.

But just before daybreak, and in the dim morning twilight, Frank and Bob were suddenly roused by a most tremendous uproar in the parlor—kicks, thumps, tables upsetting, chairs breaking, and a general row going on; in the midst of which din arose the voice of David, calling frantically upon themselves and Uncle Moses.

This was certainly enough to rouse anybody.

Up jumped Frank, and rushed to the door.

Up jumped Bob, and sprang after him.

The noise outside was outrageous. What was it? Could it be robbers?
No. Robbers would prefer to do their work in silence. What was it?

Slowly and cautiously Frank opened the door, and looked forth into the parlor. It was as yet quite dark, and the room into which he peered was wrapped in the shades of night. What little he could see he saw but indistinctly. Yet he saw something.

He saw a dark, shadowy figure in rapid motion backward and forward, and at every movement some article of furniture would go with a crash to the floor. Sometimes the figure seemed to be on the table, at other times it was leaping in the air. Suddenly, as he looked, the door, which opened out into the parlor, was banged back with a violent blow, and shut again. Frank was nearly knocked down.

"What is it?" asked Bob.

"I don't know," said Frank, "unless it's a madman."

"What shall we do?"

"If we were all together," said Frank, "we might make a rush at him, and secure him. I've a great mind to make a start, as it is."

"It must be a brigand!" said Bob; for his mind, like the minds of the rest of the party, was largely filled with images of Italian bandits.

"Perhaps so," said Frank; "but at any rate let's make a rush at him. Will you do it?"

"Of course," said Bob.

At this Frank carefully opened the door again, and looked forth.
The noise had ceased for the time. Bob poked his head forth also.
They looked eagerly into the room.

Suddenly Frank touched Bob.

"Look!" he whispered, "by the table."

Bob looked.

It was certainly a singular sight that met their view. In the midst of the gloom they could see two balls of light that seemed like eyes, though there was no form visible to which these glaring, fiery eyes might belong. And the eyes seemed to glare out of the darkness directly at them. All was still now; but the very stillness gave additional horror to that unseen being, whose dread gaze seemed to be fastened upon them.

Suddenly David's voice was heard from the next room,—

"Frank! Bob!"

"Hallo!" cried both boys.

"What shall we do? Can't you do something?"

"I'll see," cried Frank. "Bob, light the lamp."

"I haven't any matches," said Bob.

"What a pity!" said David. "Can't you wake Uncle Moses? Your room is next to his."

At this Bob went to the wall between his room and that of Uncle Moses, and began to pound with all his might. Uncle Moses did not respond, but there came a response from another quarter. It was from the thing in the parlor. Once more the fearful uproar began. Crash! went the chairs. Bang! went the tables. A rapid racket of hard footfalls succeeded, mingled with the smash of the furniture.

Frank closed the door.

"If I only had a light," said he, "I should know what to do. But what can a fellow do in the dark?"

"I wonder what's the matter with Uncle Moses."

"He? O, he would sleep through anything."

"I wonder if it is a brigand, after all," said Bob.

"I don't know. I still think it may be a madman."

"I don't like those glaring eyes."

"If I only had a fair chance, and could see," said Frank, fiercely,
"I'd soon find out what is behind those glaring eyes."

Louder grew the din while they were speaking—the rattle, the bang, the smash, the general confusion of deafening sounds.